


Smooth Skin and Smooth Moves

by qweendweeb



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, M/M, that's pretty much it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qweendweeb/pseuds/qweendweeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Grif, give me a massage."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smooth Skin and Smooth Moves

“Grif, give me a massage.” Simmons orders, laying face down on his bed.

“What? No way, screw you.” Grif says, not even looking up from his book.

“C’mon, please? I’ve been helping Sarge fix the goddamn Warthog and I must’ve pulled something.”

“You keep talking but I still don’t hear a reason I should give you a fucking massage.” Grif licks his thumb and turned the page.

“Okay, I’ll order extra oreos for you next time we get a supply drop.” Simmons bargains, pushing himself up onto an elbow.

Grif nearly drops the book, looking at Simmons. “You can do that?” Simmons replies with a smug look. “Fine.” Grif drags out the word into a slight groan. He gets off his bed and walk to few short feet to Simmons’ bunk, pushing him down into the bed and crawling on top of the red-head.

He grabs the hem of Simmons’ shirt and starts to pull it up, Simmons pushes himself up a little to help Grif. “Really? Wouldn’t this have been easier if I took my shirt off before I laid down?”

“Shut up, Simmons.” Grif mumbles, throwing the shirt on the floor. “Do you have any, like, oil or something?”

“There’s the lube.” Simmons says, muffled by the pillow.

“I am not wasting lube on your fucking back.” Grif rolls his eyes, beginning to work out the knots in Simmons’ neck.

“ _Fuck_.” Simmons sighs the word. “Jesus, Grif you have magical fingers.”

Grif laughs, applying pressure to Simmons’ human shoulderblade. “Usually when guys tell me that, I have my hands on a different place.”

“Well you can give me a hand job after you’re done if you’d like.” Grif can practically hear Simmons’ smirk. Grif ‘accidentally’ presses his nail into Simmons’ skin, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make Simmons yelp.

“Nah, I’m good. But thanks anyway.” Grif says with a smile on his face, even though he knows Simmons can’t see it. They’re quiet for a moment, Grif starts to work on Simmons lower back, zoning out slightly.

Until a long, deep moan from Simmons snaps him out of it. Grif repeats the action he made, earning another moan. Grif grinds his teeth together, knowing that he will never hear the end of it if Simmons feels him get turned on.

“Could you imagine what would happen if Donut walked in now?” Simmons asks after a few more minutes of silence.

“Ugh, God. We’d never hear the end of it. ‘And how come _I_ wasn’t invited?’” Grif says in his best Donut impression.

“That was just. Awful, that was an awful impression.” Simmons laughs, looking over his shoulder. Grif scowled pushing his head back into the pillow.

“You’re in a pretty vulnerable position. I could hurt you.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re like half hard.” Simmons’ cocky, muffled voice says. Grif pauses for a second, then digs his nails into Simmons pale skin, definitely drawing blood this time. “Ow, fuck. It’s not like I’m _lying_. Hmp.”

“You’re such a piece of shit.” Grif drops down onto the side of the bed, keeping one leg around Simmons.  The maroon soldier shifted so he was looking at Grif. “You owe me so many blow jobs.”

“What? I’m already getting you extra oreos.”

“Yep, and _loads_ of BJs, should’a read the fine print.” Grif shrugs, though it looks awkward while laying down. Grif shifts forward and kisses away any arguments Simmons has. He can feel Simmons almost immediately stop caring about what he was going to say, giving all his attention to the kiss. Simmons tangles a hand in Grif’s hair, mumbling something about hoping the door is locked.

Grif never minds taking it slow, Simmons is usually the one to move things forward. This make out session is no different as Simmons pushes Grif’s leg off of him and straddles Grif’s hips.

The only problem is that Simmons’ bunk isn’t very big, and they run out of bed space. Simmons lands on his back with Grif on top of him.

“Wow,” Grif says as he rolls off of his boyfriend. “That was _so_ smooth.”

“No, please, shut up-”

Grif sits up beaming down at Simmons. “Seriously Simmons, I am swooning. Lightheaded even. Head over heals.”

“Ugh, shut _up_.” He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. He opens his eyes again to Grif leaning over him, inches away.

“I love you. Nerd.” Grif says with a lopsided smile that Simmons can barely see.

Simmons’ chest swells and he gives Grif a chaste kiss, “Love you too. Asshole.”


End file.
